


To Mend What’s Broken

by cat_77



Series: Flufftober 2018 [7]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Episode AU: s02e20 Beside Still Water, F/M, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.[Episode fix-it for Beside Still Water]





	To Mend What’s Broken

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt of “canon fix-it.” I might have forgotten some of the fluffy part though.
> 
> * * *

Clary came to with a start and resisted the urge to instantly sob. Jace. He had killed Jace. Her father, her own father, had stabbed him and then turned around and knocked her out as if she were nothing.

She flexed against her bonds and found them to be quite sound. She had no idea where her own stele was, couldn’t find it with the admittedly limited pat down she was able to give herself, but saw the glint of metal in the moonlight where Jace’s rested in its holster on his thigh. 

Not moonlight. The light of an angel. Bright and bold and damning as it spoke to Valentine fulfilling the ritual to call upon Raziel and make his wish. A wish that would kill thousands, if not millions, in a matter of seconds. He was still talking though, so she hopefully still had time.

She slithered crawled over to the lax body and tried not to think of it as robbing the dead. She needed the stele to free herself. She needed to free herself to have a chance to stop the atrocity that was about to happen.

She damn near gave herself a heart attack when the supposedly dead body flinched at her touch. “J-Jace?” she whispered with as much hope as she dared.

“Activated the iratze, but I still can’t really move yet,” he admitted just as quietly. Given his stele was not in his hands, she knew he meant with his angel blood, and knew that would have been taxing enough without the wounds.

Her tears splashed against his cheeks when she leaned down and kissed him the best she could given their current positions. When she pulled back, she said, “I have to stop him.”

If he protested, she never knew. She scribbled the rune to unlock herself and spared him only the briefest of glances as she slowly managed to get her feet under her. It was a good thing her father liked to monologue, or it would be far too late by the time she was even able to right herself. She felt a rush along her skin and every sense seemed to heighten at once, which is why she noticed Jace’s eyes glow golden out of the corner of her own. He needed to conserve his energy if he was going to save himself, yet he wasted it on her in the hopefully not futile attempt to help her win the upcoming battle.

And it was a battle.

Her against her father. He was fueled by righteousness and she was fueled by rage. The angel just hung there in the air and let them duke it out. Rage won, she she tried not to think about how that might signal a shared trait with the monster of a man who now lay at her feet. There was more to do though, and she knew it. He had made his wish, or at least started to. Raziel had claimed it was not the will of the angels but was going to grant it through their pact anyway, and so she still needed to stop that.

“Clarissa Morgenstern, you may request a wish and it will be granted,” the angel finally spoke.

“Fray,” she corrected. It was the name she had been raised with, even if her mother was technically a Fairchild. She refused to admit any ties to the man who called himself her father.

“Clarissa Fray,” the angel corrected. “Do you wish to continue your father’s quest?”

“I don’t want that,” she insisted. “I don’t want all of the Downworlders to die. I want them to be safe. I want us as Shadowhunters to do our jobs to work with them to protect them and the mundanes. I want to make sure that no one can use this power, use us, to destroy in such a way.”

“I cannot grant that,” Raziel responded, and she sobbed in response, right up until he said, “That must come from within you. That is, and always has been, the path of the Nephilim. There is no need to use a wish for that which already exists.”

There was a crash from the bushes behind her, but she ignored that to ask, “But how? How do we remain on that path when there are people like the Circle, like my father, that fight against it?”

He looked away from here then. Past her. Through her. He seemed to address the very air around her when he declared, “The prophets have been chosen. The Nephilim would be wise to heed their words.”

The light around him grew blinding and she had to close her eyes and turn her head away from it all. When her eyes no longer felt like they were seared into her eyelids, she dared to blink them open. Before her, at her feet, lay the Soul Sword and the Mortal Cup. Behind her, in a semicircle along the edges of the clearing, were at least a dozen Shadowhunters, all heavily armed and all in various stages of disbelief. A breath away from them were three very familiar faces, and she was fairly certain just who had called in the cavalry.

“Not a one of you better even try to deny what you just saw,” Isabelle declared, holding up her phone as if proof of evidence as to what just happened.

Clary didn’t have time for any of that now though. Jace was still laid out, still bleeding, his runes trying their best but she knew he needed more. “Jace needs help,” she managed. She started to take a stumbling step in his direction, body as a whole feeling as though it were on fire, and then thought better of it. 

At least two of the Shadowhunters that she didn’t recognize were already approaching, eyes trained not on her but on the two sacred objects at her feet. She knew how important the Soul Sword was in all of their rites and practices, so she reached for the Mortal Cup instead. The wrought gold felt cool against her heated skin, or at least it did briefly before it transformed into a very familiar looking tarot card in a bright flash of light eerily similar to what had surrounded the angel moments ago. To date, she knew of precisely two people who could access it in that state, and her mother had already passed far beyond the reach of the Clave. She very pointedly held it up for the gathered crowd to see, and then just as pointedly tucked the card into her own pocket.

“Jace, is he?” Alec started. He shook his head and gripped his side right above his parabatai rune. “My rune, it faded to almost nothing. Felt like it was being burned from my skin. I thought... I thought he had...”

“Still alive,” Jace insisted. It would have been more believable if his voice was above a whisper and he wasn’t laying in a pool of his own blood.

“Can we get some help over here?” Izzy called. 

Several of the gathered Shadowhunters that were not obsessing over the sword rushed over, or at least tried to before Magnus held up a hand to stop them. “Biscuit, I need to know something very important: were you with Jace the entire time he was injured?” At Alec’s questioning look, he explained, “We just finished closing a portal to Edom and battling a greater demon. Other demons escaped, yet there is no sign of them. Something is clearly off right now and we need to know if there were any vulnerabilities to be exploited.”

Clary was tempted to lie, the words were right on the tip of her tongue and the way Jace watched her ever so carefully, she knew what he wanted her to say. She also knew she could not put so many people at potential risk. Jace may need treatment, but he also needed to be vetted to be safe to those around him. “No,” she admitted. “Valentine stabbed him, I honestly thought he was dead, and then he knocked me out. I came to and was going to use his stele to unlock myself. That’s when I discovered he was still alive.”

Magnus nodded as if he had expected as much. He snapped his fingers and let his hand hover just above Jace’s sternum, wisps of blue flowing from his fingertips. The flow stopped and he looked down at the injured man apologetically. “This is not going to be comfortable,” he warned.

“Do it,” Jace gritted out.

Another nod and then pure power poured from Magnus. Waves of blue turned to red that faded to purple and finally back to blue again. Jace convulsed before them, clearly trying not to shout out and managing the task by biting his lip instead. Beside him, Alec dropped to the ground, his own body writhing and shaking, and offered him his hand and likely his strength.

It was a matter of moments only before a dark cloud of mist escaped Jace on a particularly violent exhalation. Clary didn’t even pause to think about it. She ripped the seraph dagger away from the person nearest to her and lunged forward, only to collide with arrow and whip as the half-formed demon exploded. In the brief glance she got before it disappeared into not much more than ichor and smoke, it looked far too much like the smaller beasts they had fought earlier, the ones that broke off when they tried to fight the larger one. If she had needed confirmation of a tie between the events, she now clearly had it.

A chuckle of all things caught her attention. It was Jace, still laid out, still too pale in the moonlight. “Think you three got it?” he asked drily.

Before she could respond, she noticed Magnus sag off to the side. With a call of his name, she reached for him, only to find Alec and Izzy beat her to it. “He’s used too much magic,” Alec guessed as he lowered him gently. “Between the portal and the demon and now this one too... You need to rest,” he chided.

Magnus readily let them take the bulk of his weight but, between pants for air, replied, “Like I was going to let your parabatai be possessed after everything else.”

“Do you think it’s over?” she asked. The people who had been willing to help before approached again now and started checking Jace over. She wanted to help, but Izzy pulled her back and stood protectively next to her, whip at the ready, as if to dare them to try anything to get the card from her.

“With you lot? Unlikely,” Magnus managed with a huff and the slightest of grins.

“Miss Fairchild, are you injured?” one of what she supposed was technically a rescue team asked. The woman stayed a safe distance back and made no obvious moves to approach.

She was about to correct her on the name, but Izzy beat her to responding when she said, “She’s bleeding so probably, but don’t take it the wrong way if we don’t trust you right now.”

“The angel called her a prophet. Only a fool would question that or try anything against her now,” the woman insisted. She held up her stele and said, “You said you needed Herondale’s stele to unlock yourself; did you use it to heal yourself yet?”

Clary hadn’t even noticed her own injuries, not really. When she stopped to think about it though, her lip stung and her face ached and pretty much everywhere felt like it had been punched, which it had. “I’ll be fine,” she replied.

“Fray,” Alec barked and practically shoved his own stele into her hands. He wouldn’t let Magnus make a portal but he also wouldn’t let anyone take them back to Alicante where they might trapped or overpowered. The last part was despite how many people now swore they wouldn’t let that happen. A fire message to Imogen later, and safe passage was guaranteed as well as top of the line treatment for her grandson, of course.

It was while all five were crashed in a spare room at the Inquisitor’s residence, despite her attempts to give them each some space, that a nearly healed Jace asked, “So, do we tell them?”

“Tell them what?” Magnus asked warily from where he lounged on a chaise, draped as dramatically as he could despite his audience not appreciating the effort. Clary had smiled and Alec would randomly run his fingers through his hair in an almost absent pattern, so he was at least content for now.

At her nod, Jace yanked up his borrowed t-shirt and she tugged down the collar on her own, comfortable enough with those gathered to not be embarrassed to show part of her bra. There, centered above their hearts, was a rune. It looked similar to the one for enlightenment, but was colored a golden bronze instead of the usual black. She had already tried waving a stele over it and all it did was create a warm almost tug at her senses that Jace seemed to feel as well.

“Well, he did call you prophets,” Magnus shrugged, nonplused. 

“But I still know next to nothing about being a Shadowhunter and Jace is, well, Jace...” she argued.

“You guys have always kept us from doing the truly stupid stuff,” Jace agreed. “Why not you?”

“I know I trust you, even when you’re kicking my ass and pretending it’s training,” Clary finished. She was going to ponder that a little more, but was busy being distracted by the way her new rune pulsed and glowed just for the briefest of moments. It hadn’t yet faded when the other three gasped in surprise.

Both Izzy and Alec pulled up their sleeves to reveal a loyalty rune the same odd gold-like color as their own. “But... how?” Isabelle breathed.

“Better question would be why,” Magnus told her. He rolled up his own sleeve to reveal the same mark on his own arm, barely visible against his skin. “Should we just assume the angel has chosen your protectors?”

Clary thought about it, and shook her head. “The angel has chosen our counsel,” she corrected. “It’s not like we would do anything without you anyway.”

“See, you’re already wiser for it,” Magnus yawned. “My first gift of wisdom to you is to try to get some sleep. We’re safe, Blondie’s grandma is drafting legislation to keep it that way, and we all know there’s going to be one hell of a party when we get back to New York.”

As far as advice went, she had far worse in her time. With that in mind, she snuggled deeper into the couch that she shared with Jace and closed her eyes. As she heard the others get settled, for the first time in far too long, she realized she was at peace.


End file.
